Ma Millie-13
Even though Millie has ceased to be a daily presence, her passing leaves a painful emptiness. John and I feel the absence of her voice, wit, and her “good morning” to the cat, Toot. I puzzle over her occasional “Guess what baby boy did today” is doing cart-wheels in my head. Like a jigsaw puzzle, I try to solve it. I narrow it down to three baby boys: John, Jason, and the cat. That’s the straightforward part. The clues are her voice intonation, facial expression, and body language. It’s challenging to solve this reference. Toot visits her room frequently, sniffs around, and walks out with a sorrowful meow.
Planning for two weddings is a welcome distraction. The next few months are a blur with preparations. Jason and Kris send out invitations to family and friends, including all the Turkeys. At home, John is busy putting the two-year-old Tara through her paces as one of the Flower Girls. He makes her walk up and down the small hallway along the stairs. “Tara, please take small, slow steps, no running.” A smiling Tara the Toddler takes extra slow steps. John instructs, “You can go a little faster than that.” After a couple of days of practice, John okays Tara’s trip down the aisle.
The wedding day arrives. We are a large group. The Bylsma family from Baltimore, the Sahni family from Ottawa, Mummy, Brian with Monica, and our daughter, Kelly. We all pile into three cars. The drive through scenic Illinois fields to a picturesque church in Waterman is cheery. Recently planted corn is sprouting a fresh green in neat rows. It is a sparkling, sunny day with bright blue skies, perfect for the wedding.
A host of dressed-up, smiling guests greet us as we drive up to the church. Inside, the pews are decorated with an abundance of ribbons and flowers. Kris is getting dressed. We see Kris trying on the veil even as Jason enters. Kris turns to Jason, smiles, and thanks him for showing up. Hmm! What’s that all about?
A photographer is busy taking pictures of guests in groups. John strikes up a conversation with him and realizes photos and videotaping are only at the church. He pulls the photographer aside and invites him and his wife to the dinner reception. The deal is to take photos and record the reception for a fee. The young man is more than willing to do so.
It was a lovely wedding. John, Jason, and Brian look dashing in their tuxes. An emotionally charged Kris is coming down the aisle on her father’s arm. She can barely control her tears. The two little flower girls stop at several pews to show guests their pretty baskets.
Wedding over, everyone was busy congratulating the newlyweds. Guests are dispersing to the reception venue in Elburn. The rebuilt Fishermen’s Inn has a large spacious hall, beautifully done up for the wedding reception. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows on three sides flood it with natural light. Magnificent views of the lake, swans, and verdant green fields undulate to the horizon. The place settings at the tables include little kits with wands to blow soap bubbles with. A delightful touch!
Several of the guests, drinks in hand, are at the windows admiring the view. We walk into a chorus of “Well done, John” from the Turkeys, thanking him for the open bar.
The bridal party enters. With much gusto, John musters the announcement of each bridesmaid’s and groomsman’s names. A smiling bride and her groom walk hand-in-hand amidst much clapping and cheering. Myriads of soap bubbles float and fill the air above and around them.
Brian sits next to Monica at the head table. He delivers a straight-from-the-heart toast to his younger brother. It’s the first time I have seen a serious, classy side of Brian. My heart fills with pride at the tuxedoed, ever-so-handsome dude!
Dinner is over, and the dancing begins. It’s a slow start, as most people are making a beeline to the bar which has reopened after dinner. As the evening progresses, the floor is getting crowded. I see Kris and her maid of honor, Charlotte, busy pounding the floor with their fists. Goaded by the music, beating louder and faster, their gowns billowing about them. On one table, they are constructing a pyramid of champagne goblets. A pretty young thing is dancing on the table at the adjoining one. There is much stomping, swaying, cavorting, and dancing. The entire crowd is on the floor. It is wild! Fueled by the open bar, the celebrations go late into the night.
Someone yells “garter time.” A chair appears in the middle of the dance floor, and Kris sits on it. Jason removes the garter belt with his teeth even as the music tempo crescendos. A small huddle of bachelors rushes forward to grab the garter as Jason flings it towards them. I’m not sure who caught it, but there is thunderous applause.
And Kris is ready to toss her bouquet. It can’t be a simple lob over her head. No, too easy. No, sir! There needs to be a little drama. The bevy of beauties standing poised behind her to grab the flowers is impatient. Kris bends forward and grabs the front and back edges of her gown. She tosses the bouquet between her legs towards the waiting crowd. The law of arcing projectiles kicks in. The bundled posy curves over Kris in a sweeping semicircle and lands on the floor before her. A loud gasp follows by hilarious laughter from the multitude behind her. Kris picks up the bouquet and tosses it again in a straighter line. My niece, Vanita, is quick. She steps forward in a lunge, out of the crowd, and catches it! Good job!
Happy and tired, the guests depart amidst hails of best wishes for a long, happily married life.
On the drive back home, John observes, “One done, one more to go, maybe two more to go!” Brian and Monica are next. Kelly is still sorting out her life.
In Dallas, Kelly lives with her boyfriend, Tim, a local chiropractor. Having given up all pretenses about going to college, she hopes to marry him. Tim is evasive; he is not sure of his readiness for commitment. Kelly explains he has been married previously and divorced. The marriage resulted in a son, Ethan, who is eight years old. Tim was not ready for marriage the first time around and was ill-prepared to become a parent. He abandoned both mother and child soon after Ethan was born. It ended in a divorce with shared custody of the child. So, the current situation is iffy for Kelly. Tim’s uncertainty about taking the plunge again bothers Kelly immensely.
Brian and Monica scheduled their wedding for early August. The summer of 1993 is proving to be a relatively cool one. August 8th is about the warmest day. We arrive at the Kilcoin farm in the early evening the day before. The rehearsal takes place in the church under the guidance of Monica’s uncle, who is a priest. A spectacular bonfire is being erected back on the farm. Trays full of wieners are ready for roasting. A long table laden with delicious breads, sides, and fixings. The flames reach high, with sparks flying around. Candles or flashlights are unnecessary; a full moon is trying to peek above the horizon. Neighbors come by carrying desserts—plenty of camaraderie nourished by beer and wine.
And then comes the crowning moment! The full moon has climbed above the horizon. A tractor-trailer padded with bales of hay pulls up. Everyone clambers up and makes themselves comfortable on the bales. Itchy, but who cares? An entire moonlit evening and a hayride. What joy! One of Monica’s brothers takes the tractor on a slow crawl through the Iowan countryside. We visit quite a few neighboring farms, friends, and relatives. At one point, the tractor stops, and Monica’s brother hushes everyone. A colossal snow owl perched on a tall fence post glints in the moonlight. With its astonished look, it is scanning the pastures. Rendered speechless, hushed, we gaze in awe at this nature’s wunderkind.
The tractor moves again, and the night bird takes off. It was a sight to behold. Snowy-white wings doing a slow, lustrous flap skyward in the moonlight.
A little further, someone jumps from the trailer onto the tractor. Monica’s dad, a stickler for following all safety precautions, chews out the young man. In the pin-drop silence, we listen to a few choice reprimands. He takes a deep breath, and someone whispers softly, “Old man Kilcoin had a farm, ee-i ee-io.” The refrain picks up low and increases in volume as a grin crosses Mr. Kilcoin’s stern visage. Everyone joins in the singing, including old man Kilcoin himself.
The church wedding takes place the following day. Monica is gorgeous-tall, slender, red-haired. A cream midi skirt and jacket adorned and edged with flowery applique work are elegant and charming. Monica’s uncle officiates the solemn ceremony, sacred and ritualistic. One of the wedding pictures is a little less formal. Little Miss Flower Girl will not sit still, and Brian grabs her. A camera click captures a squirming Tara Bylsma under Brian’s arm, an all-time favorite.
A wedding lunch, typical of weddings on farms, so I am told, follows. Neighbors bring all kinds of side dishes and iced cakes. Most everyone is in shorts–even the bride has changed into a more comfortable broom-stick skirt and flip-flops. John has brought in a case of his favorite cherry-almond-flavored champagne. He loves discussing the understated complexities of this uniquely flavored champagne, and he doesn’t miss an opportunity to do so as he goes around topping everyone’s glass.
The next day, John and I host a luncheon on a gambling riverboat plying the Mississippi. Mummy enjoys gambling and is very good at keeping a straight face. She wins small amounts and is thrilled and satisfied. She is sitting next to John and watches him keep saying “hit me” to the dealer. Sitting on John’s other side with a drink, Kelly enjoys her game. A busy John makes Mummy more and more nervous by the minute. She is positive he is losing his shirt and the family home, too. When finally, he slips off his stool, he looks squarely at Mummy and mockingly admonishes her with a “Mummy, I never lose.” Mummy breaks into a grin and pats him on the back.
The drive back is quiet. Everyone is exhausted, but not too much to discuss wedding plans with Kelly. Munna, Juji, and Kelly carry on an animated conversation. John issues a cautionary note. “Whoa, you guys better slow it down. There’s no groom in sight as yet.” Kelly pouts all the way home.